


Just like Scheherazade

by demented_queen



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate season 7, Comedy, Crazy!Rick, Diva!Negan, Drunk!Rick, Flippant!Rick, Godzilla!Rick, M/M, Power tripping!Glenn, Storyteller!Rick, because season 7 is hi-lar-ious, because that's part of the treatment, last tag was to see who was paying attention, lots of smut, music shaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:05:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demented_queen/pseuds/demented_queen
Summary: Everything canon up to the last episode in season 6 where Negan has everyone on their knees, cowering before him.However, Rick's sanity finally snaps and Negan decides to make him better, not out of the kindness of his heart, but because it's far more fun to break someone who isn't broken.In turn, Negan learns everything there is to know about Rick and his rag-tag group as the Alexandria leader tells him a new story every night about what his life has been like since he woke up from that accursed coma back in Georgia.





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling a little rusty since I haven't written in a while, but I'm back in the saddle now (and hopefully my horse will have better luck than Rick's did back in Atlanta).
> 
> I want to issue a huge thank you to pharmtechgirl71 who looked this over for me. Thank you babe!

 

 

Honestly, when Negan thought long and hard enough about it, the only conclusion he could possibly come up with was simply put, he was bored.

Unequivocally, positively, flat out _bored_.

Sure, life seemed great for the guy who was King Shit here, at the end of it all.

Being the tyrannical leader of a large group of people who bent at the knee for you, while simultaneously terrorizing those within and outside of said community, appropriating half their hard-earned supplies as well as looting all their weapons, killing some of their people (not to mention his own from time to time) and being an all-around pain in the ass for most of the general populace sure _seemed_ liked a good thing.

But mindless subjugation, enslavement of the masses, the decimation and pillage of small groups just grew tiring after a while.

And really, what was the point of being king of it all at the end of the world if you couldn’t have some fun along the way?

Being the Big Cheese, (and when Negan envisioned the self-proclaimed designation ‘Big Cheese’ in his mind, he always imagined it capitalized) in an undead apocalypse was all fine and dandy as long as he was having said fun but it was beginning to become a bit mundane.

So when Simon, his number one henchman, told him the bad news about their outpost having taken a hit sometime in the middle of the night (Simon having been quite uncomfortable about telling him said news - something about Greeks and not killing the messenger), a hit being that all his men had been murdered in their sleep and a large cache of their weapons pilfered, Negan had actually perked up.

Now _there_ was something new.

Not to mention the fact that this new upstart group had taken out Paula’s whole band as well as Bud’s gang.

Swiftly and efficiently, he might add.

Now that right there made Negan sit up and take notice.

He was positively beside himself with excitement.

He couldn’t wait until he met these new people.

When Simon had gotten word back to him that he had the group cornered, along with other members of their party, Negan had felt like Christmas had come early.

And now here he sat, practically bouncing up and down in excitement on the seat in the RV that they managed to commandeer from some guy with a mullet.

Having finally calmed himself down, he preened in front of the mirror, adjusting his scarf and tugging his jacket down so it lay smooth against his chest.

Negan loved his leather jacket.

It fit his body like a glove, was always well kept and communicated ‘Guy in Charge.’

Another term envisioned in his mind as capitalized.

Just then, Dwight entered the RV. “They’re here boss.”

“Why thank you Dwight,” Negan said mockingly as he scanned his scarred henchmen up and down.

And this was why he knew Dwight would _never_ be a leader.

He didn’t have an awe-inspiring jacket.

Ruminating over Dwight’s poor clothing choices suddenly brought something to Negan’s attention.

“Dwight?” Negan asked as he continued to find just the right mocking sneer combined with winning smile in the mirror.

“Yes sir?” Dwight responded eagerly.

“Which one’s Dick?” Negan asked.

“ _Rick_ sir,” Dwight corrected. “He’s the one in the brown jacket, with the…um, furry collar…thing around his neck.”

“What, like a bomber jacket?” Negan asked.

“No.”

Negan frowned. “Harrington?”

“What? What is…?” Dwight sputtered.

“Bolero? Cargo? Flak?” Negan asked, annoyance lacing his voice.

“I don’t know! What even are those…? How do you know what those are?” Dwight sighed, completely frustrated. “Look, he’s right there,” he said as he leaned over to the window and pointed to the man in the middle.

Peering out the window, Negan zoned in on the figure, kneeling on the ground.

Now _that_ was a great jacket.

And _that_ was how he knew Rick was the leader.

Negan took a moment to study the man on his knees, the guy named Rick in the cool jacket.

He wasn’t sure what he expected but it certainly wasn’t him.

He had expected someone like Steven Seagal or maybe Dwayne Johnson or even Chuck Norris.

But this?

Rick was, well…

He was fucking _adorable_ was what he was.

He reminded him of that little dog in the Road Warrior, the Blue Heeler that belonged to Max.

Small, wiry, loyal, cute as a button and fierce as all fuck.

Visions of himself and Rick walking side by side like Max and his dog briefly entered his mind, ruling the new world as a formidable team slowly taking shape, until he realized the folly in that since chances were highly likely that Rick wouldn’t like him very much after tonight and the fact that despite how excited Negan was to meet new people, he still had a reputation to uphold and these people and their leader killed a hell of a lot of his men.

And while Negan’s thoughts devolved from thinking about Max and his cute little dog to how nobody ever fully appreciated Mel Gibson and his cinematic genius, Dwight could be heard clearing his throat as he tried to get his attention.

Oh yeah.

New people to meet, intimidate and disillusion.

And kill.

Which was a damn shame.

They really did look like a fun bunch of people.

People, in truth, he couldn’t wait to meet.

“Do you smell that Dwighty boy?” Negan grinned as he inhaled deeply, his whole body bending slightly backwards on his knees.

“Um,” Dwight stuttered as he sniffed and then shook his head in confusion. “Camper mildew?”

“It’s the smell of something new, something different! Something that’s about to come in and blow the doors off our fucking humdrum, piss-ant lives,” Negan proclaimed, shivering in anticipation as he sniffed the air again for good measure, before scrunching his nose in revulsion. “Ew.  You're right.  Open a damn window!”

“I didn’t think our lives were all that,” Dwight started, then stopped.  It wasn't like Negan was listening to him anyway.

“Let me put my game face on Dwight,” Negan sighed heavily as he expelled his breath, rolled his shoulders around and then picked up Lucille, swinging her over his shoulder. He stared at himself one more time in the mirror, moistened his thumb with his tongue, smoothed one eyebrow and then winked at himself.

“Showtime,” Negan grinned maniacally as he exited the RV.

Strolling up to the group on their knees, he stopped in front of their leader, Rick, the man shaking uncontrollably.

Well, to be fair, that was to be expected.

Negan always liked to put on a show, and ambushing a group in the dark of night, setting them as the main focal point, and surrounding them with all his people made for great theatre.

It set the tone for sheer panic and terror and ultimate dread to a perfect pitch.

Negan made his introductions, while walking up and down the line of people who were either sobbing quietly or glaring at him, taking in each and every face, all mirroring the horror he knew he was instilling into their very being.

He started off with his usual monologue, some grand posturing, made some off handed remark about them pissing in their pants, when he finally stopped before their leader, regarding Rick once again.

Negan furrowed his brow when he realized his initial assessment of Rick shaking from terror had been wrong.

 _Dead_ wrong.

The tremors wracking through Rick’s body had nothing to do with shock or trepidation.

The son of a bitch was laughing.

Rick had turned his face up toward Negan and continued to laugh.

Now this?

 _This_ was different.

Negan’s grand monologue was now thrown out the window just like his chances of ever watching Super Bowl again.

He almost wanted to laugh right along with Rick because in some strange, twisted way it _was_ funny.

Until it wasn’t.

 

 


	2. In the Court of the Crimson King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been MIA. It was seriously NOT supposed to be this long between updates but there has been so much that has happened in RL in the past month (both bad AND good) so yeah...
> 
> Also, for those of you who know my irreverent sense of humor, this won't be a surprise.
> 
> For those of you who don't, enjoy. :)

 

 

Negan recalled a time, back in 1982, when he had been schlepped to a Rick Springfield concert by one Debbie McFarland, a true hottie he had been hitting on for the better part of a year. So of course he had said yes, even though he knew attending a Rick Springfield concert would be akin to stabbing ones eyes out repeatedly with the pointy end of a ball point pen.

But he had gone and despite his misfortune at having to sit through that entire tragedy, they had ended the night in the back seat of his Camaro, a completely horny and turned on Debbie riding his cock like it was the bucking bronco at the local dive bar while her Double-D tits bounced up and down in his face.

Basically, that his expectations for the night had been at their lowest but turned out surprisingly high, if not downright exceptional.

Much like now.

His night started with having to confront the people who had been a huge pain in his ass, having to do some unpleasantness to well, _this_.

Negan stared down at the kneeling, cackling man in rapt fascination. “You got something to say Rick?”

“I’m not really here,” Rick sputtered as he failed at his attempt to control his nonsensical giddiness. Leaning over to whisper conspiratorially to Negan, he hissed, “This is just too…it’s not real. I’m not here. _We’re_ not here. And I’m still…still,” Rick gave up as he laughed again.

Negan really wished the hysterical man came with subtitles because he was at a total loss as to what Rick was trying to communicate.

“Can any of you translate crazy?” Negan asked the rest of the group on their knees.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” a pretty African-American woman said as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah,” an Asian man said as he nodded his head in agreement. “I got nothing.”

“Oh my poor baby,” the one Dwight had called Michonne tutted as she looked forlornly at Rick.

“See?” Rick whispered as he leaned in again close to Negan while pointing at Michonne. “That woman…we’re having _sex_. There’s no way any of this is real. Look at her,” he hissed in an excited voice. “She’s so hot. She’s like some fucking goddess! She’s _totally_ out of my league. There’s no way a guy like me is having sex with _her_.”

“You really shouldn’t sell yourself short,” Negan reassured Rick, amusement tinging his voice, taking note that he had at some point managed to get down on one knee to be at eye level with the man. “What’s this all about Rick? Why do you think you’re not here.”

“Nothing’s been right since the day I woke up,” Rick replied in all seriousness. “I think I’m still asleep.”

“What? You just _woke up_ one day and decided, ‘Hey! This shit can’t be happening. I must still be asleep.’ Seriously?!” Negan laughed scornfully. “Who in the hell do you think you are?! Bobby Ewing?”

“Rick was in a damn coma!” another one of the group yelled out from the sidelines.

Oh, the redneck.

Dwight had called him Daryl.

“Yeah, when he went under, the world was great and I was just some pizza delivery guy,” the Asian man had cut in. “And when he woke up, the world was all like, you know, fucked up and guys like me could finally get the hot girl,” he finished as he gazed lovingly at one of the women in the circle.

Negan snuck a look at the woman he had indicated, scrunching his nose at the pallid complexion and the lackluster way she held herself.

He would just have to take the kid’s word for it.

And then what he had said sunk in.

_Coma?_

Talk about a rude awakening.

But still, Rick had to be yanking his chain.

“You don’t actually believe,” Negan started, then stopped as he held Rick’s gaze, looking right into the other man’s eyes, (which so happened to be the most lovely shade of blue he had ever seen) and watched as both orbs seemed to be slightly unbalanced, shifting and moving as they tried to focus in on Negan.

They were the very definition of crazy eyes.

Very blue, yes, but very crazy eyes.

Negan sighed heavily before continuing. “This is real, Rick. This whole shit show is fucking real.”

“Pfft!” Rick scoffed before he leaned in again and started talking in earnest. “You see, it really had me going, I’ll tell you what. But then, we’re running ‘round all day in that Goddamned RV, and then we end up here, on our knees, and I’m thinking, this is another level of fucked up and it just can’t be real. I mean, it’s like my life is a goddamned TV show and…and the ratings call for it to get more fucked up the farther in we get and…and _does_! It just keeps getting worse and worse each season until you can’t understand how it can get any more fucked up but here we are! It just can’t be real. I mean, law of averages right? We gotta catch a break sometime. I feel like I’m in the last few seasons of ‘Lost’ and I don’t know what the fuck’s going on anymore.”

Negan had to admit Rick was correct on that point.

He never understood the premise of ‘Lost’ in its final seasons either.

And just when Negan was about to tell Rick his ratings must be in the toilet to have to pull out a character like himself as its latest villain, one of his female henchmen spoke up.

“No it’s not!” Laura called out from the crowd as she stepped forward. “I don’t think he means ‘Lost.’ And like, anyone even understood the last season anyway.”

“Exactly!” Negan emphasized as he pointed to Laura with Lucille, cursing himself internally for playing along with any of this.

“It’s like ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer.’ Each season,” Laura continued, “the Big Bad (Negan mentally capitalizing the words in his head) got worse and worse until the last season where it was like the First Evil (Negan doing it yet again and hating himself for it) and you’re like ‘Vampires? Oh wow, how quaint.’”

“Thank you Laura,” Negan sighed as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

“You’re all wrong!” another Savior shouted as he stepped forward.

Christ not that hipster fuck, Roy.

“It’s like ‘Gilligan’s Island,’ man,” Roy touted as he nodded to everyone in the crowd, adjusting the beanie atop his head.

“Okay, no,” Negan proclaimed adamantly as he pointed his bat at Roy and his stupid hipster beanie. “You’re gonna have to back that up man or I will _personally_ Lucille you.”

Without missing a beat, Roy started. “All of humanity are like our seven castaways and they’re going on that doomed three-hour tour, but what we would call life,” Roy clarified. “But man, when the SS Minnow was lost, we all became lost and found ourselves adrift on a tiny island in the South Pacific, also known as Earth, that we will never, _ever_ get off of.”

Negan stared dumbfoundedly at Roy.

“So wait a minute,” Simon called out.

“Thank you Simon for interjecting reason into his shit for brains synopsis,” Negan nodded.

“So is ‘life,’” Simon said as he made air quotes around the word, “the SS Minnow or the tour? Because that made absolutely no sense.”

“ _That’s_ the only thing that didn’t make sense?!” Negan scoffed before leaning over to address Rick again. “Can’t stand that hipster fuck. Do you know that he yelled at some poor girl last week for calling vegetables ‘veggies?’”

“He your boyfriend?” Rick asked calmly.

Righting himself back up, Negan decided to speak up before he let anybody get another word in edgewise. “None of that monkey shit made any sense whatsoever Roy. Rick’s life is not like that. But I will give you points for trying. Get back in the crowd,” Negan huffed in exasperation. “Laura’s right. His fucked up life is more like ‘Buffy.’ I think we can all agree on that,” Negan said as he addressed the group on their knees. “Well?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, a lovely Hispanic woman commenting, “I thought Buffy too,” she said as she held her thumbs up to Laura.

“That Gilligan analogy was way off,” the Asian man spoke up.

“Great, then we’re all agreed,” Negan smiled happily.

What the fuck he had just agreed to was beyond him as he realized he had to be careful before he ended up on that same crazy train Rick was currently riding.

Exasperated, Negan looked down at the delusional man at his feet. “You really don’t think any of this is real?”

“ _Seriously!?_ ” Rick snorted derisively. “I mean the dead popping back to life?! Really? You took Biology 101. I mean, really!? And I’m the crazy one?!”

“Yeah well, it’s…I mean,” Negan shrugged, “it is what it is.”

“Our demented and incoherent authority figure does make a very valid point,” the guy with the mullet said as he spoke up. “The logistics are most assuredly in question here. Scientists have always tried to resuscitate the dead but they’ve never managed to keep it sustained past a scant few minutes. The body’s first concern would be the process of putrefaction which is aided most efficiently by the plethora of bacteria in our colon. The second a walker is turned, it has an expiration date…”

“Is this guy for real?” Negan asked Rick as he continued to gawk at the man who was currently spewing scientific facts in a flat, monotone voice.

“…while the normal symptoms of dehydration are not a concern for a walker, there is a problem with desiccation. With no reasonable means of replenishing the water in their cells…”

And yet he was still talking.

Negan noticed the dazed look on Arat’s face.

Somewhere Dwight had dropped, no doubt falling asleep where he stood.

“…nobody understands what freezing temperatures can do to dead flesh as well. The simple fact is that the human body is mostly water, and when water freezes, the ability for a walker to stay mobile will decrease as the corpse will become significantly more rigid…”

This had to stop before Negan decided to take Lucille to his _own_ head.

“Thank you Mr. Wizard!” Negan interjected quite loudly, effectively shutting the man up.

“You are most welcome. Name’s Eugene Porter. Doctor Eugene Porter. PhDs in biochemistry and microbiology…

“You believe this guy?!” Negan huffed as he got back to eye level with Rick.

“Welcome to my world,” Rick scoffed.

“I should just do all of you fine folks a favor and kill _him_ ,” Negan smirked, both gloved hands resting on the handle of Lucille. “Whadya say Rick? Want me to take him out?”

“Sure thing. Take him to a Red Lobster, ply him with drinks, that ass’ll be yours all night long,” Rick mocked while trying hard not to laugh directly in Negan’s face.

Everyone turned as one when Arat giggled uncharacteristically.

“Wow! Do you see that? You made Arat _laugh_. You sir, are special. Oh this guy is fun,” Negan asserted to the crowd as he leaned back and swung Lucille in the air. “Fun with a capital F!”

“He’s capitalizing again,” one of the Saviors whispered while another Savior hushed them.

“So what’s the verdict Rick’s group?” Negan asked as he rounded on the people on the ground. “Is El Jefe here really as 'round the bend as he’s letting on…”

Before he could finish his sentence, a resounding agreement in the affirmative could be heard from the group, minus a few of its people.

“See what I put up with?” Rick shrugged.

“His elevator don’t exactly reach the top floor, if you know what I mean,” a large, military-looking man with red hair asserted.

“So G.I. Ginger, Rick’s not so bright as well?” Negan asked, frowning disappointedly.

“No I didn’t say that,” Abraham huffed. “Name’s Abraham by the way.”

“Yes you did,” the Hispanic woman snapped. “Name’s Rosita. Rick’s not dumb. His elevator goes to the top floor. It’s just broken.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Abraham said as he snapped his fingers. “His elevator reaches the top floor but it’s broken.”

“So, wait…if his elevator is broken, how does it reach the top floor?” Simon asked as he joined the conversation.

“His elevator goes up and down just fine,” Michonne assured in a tone not to be argued with.

“Well if anyone would know if his elevator is going up and down, it would be you,” Abraham jeered back.

“So are we talking about his sanity, his intelligence or his ability to get it up now?” Simon asked.

“Simon! Don’t get caught up in all this!” Negan shouted before rounding on the people on their knees. “Okay so his elevator’s broken but it …oh for fucks sake!”

“He’s a coupla cans short of a six pack,” the Asian man said as he snapped his fingers.

“That’s it!” Negan exclaimed happily. “Thank you Kato.”

“Name’s Glenn…and that’s really offensive,” Glenn pouted.

“You know what’s really offensive?” Negan growled. “Getting hit on the head repeatedly with Lucille until one of your eyes pops outta your damn head and you’re a smear on the pavement.”

“I’ll give your regards to the Green Hornet,” Glenn swallowed as he turned another shade of pale.

“In Rick’s defense sir, um, Megan,” a nervous, curly-headed man started.

“Negan,” Negan growled. “Go on…”

“I don’t like to throw around the crazy word, but I think you would call Rick more,” the man paused, “eccentric. He likes to think outside the box. Oh! Name’s Aaron.”

“What the fuck is this?!” Negan growled in indignation. “A fucking AA meeting?! You’re all giving me your goddamned names like it is. ‘Hi! My name is Aaron. I’m a cold-blooded killer that likes to kill people in their sleep,’” Negan finished mocking the man kneeling before him.

“Hi Aaron!” a Savior called out before looking contrite. “Sorry, habit from before…sorry…sorry.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is totally bat shit crazy,” Abraham asserted. “Thinking outside the box? If the box is a whole lotta cuckoo wacky shit, maybe.”

“You shoulda seen what he had us do not too long ago,” the lovely African-American woman piped up. “I’m Sasha.”

Negan groaned before he rolled his hands forward as if to prompt the woman further. “Go ahead…”

“Anyway, we had this huge herd of walkers not too far from Alexandria,” she continued.

“Yeah,” Michonne said as she rolled her eyes. “The people who ran Alexandria before thought it would be a good idea to divert all the walkers away from their home instead of just killing them.”

“It was insane,” Glenn cut in. “All the walkers were rounded up in this quarry. It was like fucking Woodstock! You probably know what that looked like, right?”

“How the fuck old do you think I am?” Negan scowled. “So what happened next,” he asked as he looked back down at Rick as the people continued with the story.

“So Rick decides we’re not waiting for them to come to us,” Rosita interjected. “So he decides to make sure they stay completely clear of Alexandria because it was only a matter of time before they came to our walls.”

“Sounds sane to me,” Negan shrugged.

“Yeah, well you weren’t leading the parade that marched those fuckers away from the Safe-Zone,” Abraham remarked. “It was me and Sasha, and Daryl out on his bike, that had to lead them away. We were like a gang of suicidal pied pipers.”

Well that did sound a bit crazy.

Ingenious, but crazy.

“Tell him Daryl,” Abraham insisted.

“You’re all a bunch of asses. It wasn’t that bad,” Daryl huffed. “Fucking _pussies_.”

“Don’t know why I asked him,” Abraham grumbled as he pointed to Daryl. “He’ll never tell you anything Rick is doing is wrong. All Rick has to do is sashay that bow-legged ass of his and Daryl’s like ‘whatever you want Rick,’” he finished making his voice sound more feminine.

“I don’t sound like that asshole,” Daryl growled.

At the mention of Rick’s ‘bow-legged ass,’ Negan peeked around behind Rick, a few other Saviors doing the same.

“Now you’re all looking at my ass,” Rick stuttered out in maniacal fits of laughter.

Ignoring Rick’s maniac glee, Negan addressed the others. “So what happened? Did it work?”

“There were like, these wolves,” Rosita replied in a bored manner.

“That’s Wolves with a capital W, right? Fuckers with the ‘W’ on their foreheads?” Negan asked.

“Yeah, that’s the pricks,” Rick grunted. “It woulda been a perfect plan…even with that asshole Carter messing everything up…but they comes along and that was it. They blew the plan all to hell. Least we killed them fuckers.”

“How many of the Wolves did you kill?” Negan asked, raising one eyebrow.

“All of ‘em I think,” Rick shrugged nonchalantly.

“You and your group killed all the Wolves?!” Negan whistled impressively as he leaned back.

Even his own men had had a hard time taking out the rogue group.

“No, just me and Carol,” Rick shrugged.

Negan looked around the circle. “Any of you Carol?” Everyone shook their head in the negative.

Oh, that’s right.

Negan just remembered he was dealing with a deranged man.

He leaned down and whispered loudly into Rick’s ear. “Do you mean as in you and your invisible friend, Carol?”

“Oh Carol’s real,” Michonne called out.

“Yeah, if Ellen Ripley and June Cleaver had a love child, it’d be Carol,” Rick remarked.

“And she always shows up when we’re on our knees about to die a horrible death and saves us,” Glenn professed as he looked around.

“Is that so?” Negan scoffed.

Despite having all his people covering his back, Negan still managed to spare a glance into the thicket of trees surrounding them, somewhat expecting a six-foot tall woman wearing a gingham apron and a pearl choker holding a three-foot long flamethrower to come barging out of the woods while shouting ‘Get away from them you bitch!’

“Look you can say whatever you want,” Rick said, annoyance lacing his voice, “but there ain’t nothing you can say that’s gonna convince me any of this is real. It’s only been like, _two years_ since the outbreak. My son, Carl, was this little boy playing with Legos, attendin’ elementary school. Now look at him,” Rick lamented as he indicated the youngest member of the group, the teen wearing a hat. “He looks like he’s ready for his fucking senior prom and throwing up in the bushes at his first kegger.”

Negan looked over at Carl, now fully aware of the teen who had yet to comment on anything.

He also made a note about the pretty damn cool hat he was wearing.

“Aw Rick. I taught middle school P.E,” Negan scoffed. “One thing I know about kids is that one minute they’re all baby-faced and the fucking picture of innocence and youth. Hell, they’re a _damn_ Dove commercial. And the next they got hair growing out of places they never thought they'd have hair growing out of. Hey kid!” Negan called as he turned toward the boy, “are your nuts getting hairier down there yet?”

“Fuck you!” Carl snapped back.

“Aw gotta love that teenaged spunk!” Negan smiled. “See Rick? Kid’s barely hit puberty I bet.”

“It’s obvious this Rick dude is crazy,” one of the Saviors called out from the crowd, interrupting Negan’s conversation with Rick.

Sighing, Negan turned to see who yelled out.

Jared.

God, he hated that fucker.

Always the one to instigate trouble with the Kingdom.

“He’s fucking Crazy!” Jared continued, oblivious to Negan’s scorn. “Crazy with a capital C!”

“Only Negan’s allowed to capitalize,” another Savior hissed at Jared.

“Yeah, well,” Jared pouted, “we’re all Negan.”

Okay, now he was getting pissed.

“Now enough of this shit!” Negan bellowed before breathing in deeply. “I think I’ve been a reasonable man…”

“You’ve been a real peach,” Rick snickered.

“Rick, do I have to remind you I’m the guy with the bat?” Negan snarled as he held the bat out to Rick.

Rick started to chuckle again before lowering his voice. “I’m Batman.”

Oh for the love of unhinged, loony tunes, post-apocalyptic leaders.

“Guess that would make you Two-Face,” Laura teased Dwight.

“No, now wait a minute,” Dwight replied in his defense. “If he’s Batman, then we’re the good guys and _they’re_ the DC villains.”

“Hey yeah!” Laura shouted out indignantly while other Saviors in the crowd seconded Dwight’s retort.

“Yeah! And Rick’s the Joker!” another voice called out in the crowd.

“Joker! Joker! Joker!” all the Saviors started chanting, Rick nodding in unison with the crowd, Michonne grumbling something about Harley Quinn.

“ _Enough!_ What are you fuck-wits even chanting about?!” Negan roared. “Okay he’s not the Joker and I’m not Batman! Oh God. Please tell me I didn’t say any of that shit out loud,” he sighed as he placed his hand at his forehead.

“You did sir,” Dwight said.

“Thank you Dwight,” Negan sighed. “And as for the rest of you,” he growled as he addressed all the Saviors, “I’m docking five points from each of you sorry shits!”

“Five points from Gryffindor!” Rick snickered then replied contritely. “I know, I know, you’re the guy with the bat.”

“That’s not a bat,” Rosita sneered. “It’s a penis.”

“A penis encased in a weaponized prophylactic to be exact,” Eugene droned.

“What the…?!” Negan sputtered.

This was getting out of hand.

And for all the night was slipping out of his control, slowly giving into a group of people that he had now talked to more than he should have, along with the alluring fascination that the mystery Rick Grimes held before him, Negan knew he had to end the spectacle and get out now.

There was no way in hell he was ending the night by killing some of Rick’s men.

He had plans for the leader and it did not include the man’s imminent bereavement if Negan carried out his standard operating procedure.

But the crowd was looking for justice.

They were demanding blood.

Well, not right now.

Right now they were being a general pain in his ass.

Negan had to word it very carefully.

He remembered a television show in the late 1980’s that Geraldo Rivera had hosted, about how he and his crackpot team were going to excavate the vaults of the infamous gangster Al Capone. And right there on national television, he would unearth what would be the mother lode of all treasure chests, for the simple viewing pleasure of roughly a million Americans.

And this is what it felt like right now. Negan couldn’t wait to unearth what lay inside the troubled, the demented and the captivating head of the man who was currently before him, kneeling at his feet while his hair, amusingly enough, seemed to get curlier and curlier as the moment wore on.

“Okay you sorry shits. I’ve decided what I’m going to do,” Negan started as he swung Lucille over his shoulder and addressed those on their knees. “No one is getting Lucilled tonight. I know. I know. My girl’s not a happy camper…”

“You sleep with that thing?” Rick asked.

Ignoring Rick, Negan continued. “Now I haven’t learned much tonight, except that Rick is about as ‘round the bend as well…as the last thing that pretty much went ‘round the bend. Fuck if I know shit about that saying. His cock can go up and down just fine and his ass’s got some kind of superpowers and Carl may or may not have hair on his balls…”

“Fuck you!” Carl groused.

“Thank you Carl,” Negan continued. “One thing’s for sure, it’s pretty safe to say Rick is _broken_.”

Negan looked around the surrounding crowd as well as everyone on their knees, everyone nodding in agreement.

“And my intention tonight was to break Rick, but I can’t, because he’s already broken. Everyone with me so far?” Negan shouted out.

“Broken with a capital B” a Savior shouted out in the crowd.

“There will be no more unauthorized capitalizations,” Negan yelled as he pointed to the person who interrupted. “Anywho, so I have decided to take Rick back to the Sanctuary, _fix_ him, and _then_ break him!”

Silence.

“Oh that’s evil,” the normally taciturn Arat said, breaking the silence.

“I thought it was ingenious,” Negan smiled.

“So we’re…let me get this straight,” Simon interjected. “We’re taking the crazy man, the man who led the hit on our people, quite successfully I might add, into the Sanctuary, _our home_ , so you can fix him, so _then_ you can turn around and break him?!”

“Yes,” Negan said. “That’s why you’re my first officer Simon. You totally get me.”

“You’re as crazy as him,” Simon sputtered. “And have you forgotten? He killed a shit ton of our men. They’re,” Simon continued as he pointed at all of Negan’s people, “not gonna just let you bring him back, like some kitten you found wandering around in the wild.”

“Like it matters,” Negan scoffed. “Those guys were probably assholes anyway.”

Hadn’t he just been thinking of that very thing?

“Seriously?!” Simon shot back, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“Show of hands!” Negan shouted loudly as he regarded his people. “Who thinks the guys _these_ guys over here slaughtered _in their sleep_ ,” he emphasized as he scowled at the group on their knees, “were assholes!”

All hands shot up at once.

No hesitation whatsoever.

“There you go Simon. The mob has spoken,” Negan said with a smug look on his face.

“Well, actually,” a timid voice called out in back, “Mike and Quinn were pretty alright.”

“Yeah! Mike and Quinn were good guys!” another more emphatic voice cried out.

“Well they were… _okay_ ,” one of the Saviors shrugged.

“No,” another voice rang out, “Quinn was cool.”

“And Mikey, don’t forget about Mikey!” another voice cut in to the left of Negan.

“Okay, so there,” Negan shrugged as he held up two fingers. “We have two people out of the whole outpost that was alright. _Two_ Simon! That’s it.”

“Mikey was a douche!” an angry voice called out in the crowd. “He was fucking my old lady!”

“Hey! Mikey was fucking my old lady too!” another one yelled out.

“Well that settles it,” Negan said as he leaned carelessly on his bat. “Mikey was not only an asshole, but a world class douche, a cheating douche.”

“So that leaves us with Quinn,” Simon countered.

“Really?!” Negan asked as he raised his eyebrows. “I should kill someone over _one_ guy who could have been just okay?!”

“That’s funny,” someone giggled in the crowd, Negan realizing it was Fat Joey, who happened to be standing there nervously when he realized everyone had turned their attention on him.

“Care to share?” Negan sighed as he stared down his favorite errand boy.

“It’s like that scene at the end of the Lord of the Rings, you know, the last movie,” Joey stuttered as he watched all eyes on him. “Where Aragorn is all in front of the Orcs and they…the uh…um…the other guys, from you know, Gondor and shit, and they’re all about to fight and he shouts out at the top of his lungs ‘For Frodo!’” Joey exclaimed as he waved one hand in the air, “and like, you just know there’s a bunch of guys in the…the back, you know, and they’re all like ‘Who the fuck is Frodo?’ and like ‘why are we gonna die for this bitch?’” he said, quickly ending his observation as he looked at a completely gobsmacked Negan.

Negan continued to stare at Joey for a moment longer. “Thank you Joey for contributing absolutely fuck all to this conversation.”

Then again, that had finally put paid to any of his people wanting blood. They were basically now on the same page as him.

Negan got down on one knee and faced Rick, “so whadya say Rick? Ready to come back home with me? Have a sleepover? Do each other’s nails. Maybe put curlers in each other’s hair? Of course, it might be a little too late for you,” Negan said as he took one of the curls on Rick’s forehead and pulled it forward, then let go, watching in fascination as the hair sprung back into place. “That is the God-damndest thing.” Negan bounced back up on his feet. “It’s settled. I’m taking Rick back with me, so I can fix him,” Negan declared loudly, while staring down the rest of the Saviors, namely Simon, preventing any of them from speaking out again.

“When do we get Rick back?” Michonne asked.

“When he’s sane again,” Negan nodded.

“We’ll never get Rick back now!” Sasha whined.

“How do you plan on fixing him?” Rosita asked.

“I do not believe this man is a licensed practitioner,” Eugene asserted, before noticing the death glare Negan was currently throwing his way. “But I have been known to be wrong.”

“You can’t just take Rick, dicknuts,” Abraham barked.

“Okay fine,” Negan shrugged with a shrewd smile. “Then I’ll go back to my original plan of killing at least two of you with Lucille.”

“We’re gonna miss you Rick,” Abraham voiced quickly.

“Great, that’s all settled,” Negan said cheerily as he clapped his hands together, then pointed to Glenn. “You. Jackie Chan.”

“Really?” Glenn bemoaned.

“You’re the new leader of Alexandria,” Negan declared. “I have a speech saved up. You know. You belong to me. Your shit belongs to me. Blah, blah, blah. Just, we’ll pay you guys a visit in a week. Get in your crappy motorhome and…go away.”

Negan watched as everyone scrambled to get up off their feet and start running for the RV.

Including his newest acquisition.

Negan reached a hand out and grabbed Rick by his huge collar.

Which was soft and fluffy and made a great carrying handle.

“Not you sweetheart,” Negan muttered.

“Had to try, um…Sugarlips,” Rick shrugged.

“Oh, we’re gonna have lots of fun,” Negan beamed, looking entirely pleased.

He watched as Rick’s group filed into the RV. “Don’t worry Rick. We’re gonna get you back!” Michonne called out. “We are, right?!”

“You bet Rick’s sweet _ass_ we will,” Daryl growled.

“Can you leave Rick’s ass out of it for one fucking bitch happy minute?” Abraham sneered.

“Hey! You know I can hear you, right?!” Negan shouted out in annoyance.

“Okay guys, let’s get home. We got a lot of thangs to go over,” Glenn called out from the back of the line.

“Did you just say _thangs_?” Rosita asked.

“Whatever. We gotta figure out how to get Rick back,” Glenn’s voice rambled as it became quieter as they closed the RV door behind him.

“Really? I’m right here!” Negan yelled out. “Un-fucking-believable. Are you sure it was those guys that helped you take out my whole outpost?”

“I see dead people,” Rick said in all seriousness.

“No shit Haley Joel!” Negan scoffed. “We all see dead people!”

Negan quietly regarded the man before him, now that it was just the two of them. There was a great chance that at the end of whatever it was he was trying to do, he would find himself in the same predicament as Geraldo all those years ago, with egg on his face and holding his dick in his hand when they found absolutely _nothing_ in that vault, his embarrassment displayed for all to see on live television.

But it was a chance he was willing to take. Negan didn’t think when he unwrapped the enigma that was Rick Grimes that he would be left with nothing.

Besides, what else did he have to do.

It was definitely a cure for his boredom.

And with that, he hauled Rick up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“I can walk you know,” Rick grumbled.

“All part of the program sweet cheeks,” Negan smirked as he slapped the other man’s ass before walking toward his truck with a spry skip in his step while whistling a jaunty tune.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Saviors used here who have names are from the show, except for Quinn and that cheating douche Mikey. They're my creation.
> 
> Updates shouldn't be so long in coming from now on. Chapters will be shorter and glimpses into Rick and Negan's life at the Sanctuary.
> 
> Please feel free to comment.I love hearing from all of you. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments, no matter what. 
> 
> The next chapter will be pretty big wherein I let crazy!Rick out of the bag.


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